


Helpless: A Collection of Deaths

by princecaviar



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Death, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26736028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princecaviar/pseuds/princecaviar
Summary: Three of the thousands of times Maxwell and Wilson have died.
Relationships: Maxwell/Wilson (Don't Starve)
Kudos: 18





	Helpless: A Collection of Deaths

“What do we do now, Higgsbury?”

His voice is so-  _ awful _ , like this. So hopeless, as the pair of us lean heavily against each other, blood from our various wounds pooling awfully beneath us.

“I- I don’t know.”

My voice breaks, and I shudder with held-back tears. We’d had to have run at least half a mile from camp, it was nearly dark, and we had absolutely nothing. No way to get a fire started. Nothing that could stave off the night, for even a little while.

“What do we  _ do _ ?”

He sounds like he’s on the verge of tears, and it’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard. He’s not the type of man to cry. I don’t think I’ve seen him cry once. I don’t want to see it now. I rest my forehead against his shoulder and squeeze my eyes shut.

“I don’t know.”

* * *

We’re  _ sprinting _ for our lives, dashing as fast as we can manage with the hounds on our heels. It’s almost dark, and Maxwell desperately fumbles to get a half-spent torch lit. It’s not going to last long enough, and out of desperation, I snatch it from his hand and light a nearby tree on fire. But that won’t last for long either.

“I have enough! I can make another torch! We can survive this if I just have a  _ second _ -” 

‘I don’t  _ have _ a second,’ I think to myself. Maxwell is starting to slow, and the hounds are catching up. I desperately fumble with my materials.  _ Yes! It’s lit! _ But it’s far too late, and I turn in time to see Maxwell succumb to the hounds. A choked cry escapes my throat, and it’s all I have time for before the hounds descend on me.

* * *

I didn’t even see it happen. I wasn’t paying attention to anything. Lost in my head as I walked forward unseeingly, doing mental calculations and trusting Maxwell to make sure I didn’t walk into a tree. And it was so  _ fast _ . A low hissing sound, the crunching of snow, and that was it. I must have walked 20 more feet before I realized that something was wrong.

I turn around to tell him something, tell him what I had finally managed to work out that we needed, and he’s  _ gone _ . He isn’t there, and panic fills me.

The blood was so, so bright against the snow. I can see it from where I’m standing, despite how far I am. I’m frozen, at first. This can’t be happening.

This is happening. I  _ sprint _ towards him.

“ **_Maxwell_ ** !”

I nearly fall as I run, scrambling desperately through the snow. I  _ do _ fall once I reach him, the cold of the snow soaking through the knees in horrific juxtaposition to the warmth of his blood doing the same. The ice bites at my fingertips as I desperately try to do something-  _ anything _ \- to save him.

But it’s far, far too late.

The tears freeze on my cheeks as I start to sob.


End file.
